It was as though the shades of the past had come to life again, to repeat in the twentieth century a happening of the nineteenth.

There was only one difference--no form of a dead man now lay against the foot wall, to rest there more than a score of years until it should come to light, a pile of bones in time-shredded clothing.

And as he thought of it, Fairchild remembered that the earthly remains of "Sissie" Larsen had lain within almost a few feet of the spot where he had drilled the prospect hole into the foot wall, there to discover the ore that promised bonanza.
But this time there was nothing and no clue to the mystery of Harry's disappearance.

Fairchild suddenly strengthened with an idea.

Perhaps, after all, he had been on the other side of the cave-in and had hurried on out of the mine.